One must maintain a little bittle of summer, even in the middle of winter.
Henry David Thoreau
Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under the trees on a summer's day,
listening to the murmur of water, or watching the clouds float across the blue sky, is by no
means waste of time.
Our fear of death is like our fear that summer will be short, but when we have had our swing
of pleasure, our fill of fruit, and our swelter of heat, we say we have had our day.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Most people spend more time planning their summer vacations and their wedings than they do
planning their lives and their marriages. Most people major in minor things.
He had been eight years upon a project for extracting sunbeams out of cucumbers;
were to be put in vials hermetically sealed, and let out to warm the air in raw inclement
These are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and
the sunshine patriot will, in
this crisis, shrink from the service of his country; but he that stands it now, deserves the
love and thanks of man and woman.
How many of us are able to distinguish between the odors of noon
and midnight, or of winter
and summer, or of a windy spell and a still one? If man is so generally less happy in the cities
than in the country, it is because all these variations and nuances of sight and smell and
sound are less clearly marked and lost in the general monotony of gray walls and cement
Come clean with a child heart,
Laugh as peaches in the summer wind,
Let rain on a house roof be a song,
Let the writing on your face,
be a smell of apple orchards on late June.
In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there
lay an invincible summer.
The moment I stopped spending so much time chasing the big
pleasures of life, I began to
enjoy the little ones, like watching the stars in a moonlit sky or soaking in the sunbeams of a
glorious summer morning.
Play in summer, starve in winter.
Spring passes and one remembers one's innocence.
Summer passes and one remembers one's exuberance.
Autumn passes and one remembers one's reverence.
Winter passes and one remembers one's perseverance.
A man, to use an old-fashioned phrase, of some twenty-eight
summers, he gave the
impression at the moment of having experienced at least that number of very hard winters.
I've learned... that simple walks with my father around the
block on summer nights when I was
a child did wonders for me as an adult.
Remember summer vacation with your folks? Does anybody get the
concept behind that? We
did not get along together in a five-bedroom house. Dad's idea was to put all of us in a car -
and drive through the desert at the hottest time of the year. Pffft! Good call Dad! Let's
confront our tensions!
I pray the gods will give me some relief,
And end this weary job. One long full year,
I've been lying here, on this rooftop,
The palace of the sons of Atreus,
Resting on my arms, just like a dog.
I've come to know the night sky, every star,
The powers we see glittering in the sky,
Bringing winter and summer to us all,
As the constellations rise and sink.
A padded jacket is an acceptable gift even in summer.
No summer ever came back, and no two summers ever were alike.
Times change, and people
change; and if our hearts do not change as readily, so much the worse for us.
Sound loves to revel
in a summer night.
There are times,
however, and this is one of them, when even being right feels wrong. What
do you say, for instance, about a generation that has been taught that rain is poison and sex
is death? If making love might be fatal and if a cool spring breeze on any summer afternoon
can turn a crystal blue lake into a puddle of black poison right in front of your eyes, there is
not much left except TV and relentless masturbation. It's a strange world. Some people get
rich and others eat shit and die.
Under the summer roses
When the flagrant crimson
Lurks in the dusk
Of the wild red leaves,
Love, with little hands,
Comes and touches you
With a thousand memories,
And asks you
Beautiful, unanswerable questions.
It rains in summer as well as in winter.
I like spring, but it is too young. I like summer, but it is too
proud. So I like best of all
autumn, because its leaves are a little yellow, its tone mellower, its colours richer, and it is
tinged a little with sorrow and a premonition of death. Its golden richness speaks not of the
innocence of spring, nor of the power of summer, but of the mellowness and kindly wisdom of
approaching age. It knows the limitations of life and is content. From a knowledge of those
limitations and its richness of experience emerges a symphony of colours, richer than all, its
green speaking of life and strength, its orange speaking of golden content and its purple of
resignation and death.
It was one of those perfect summer days - the sun was shining, a
gentle breeze was blowing,
the birds were singing and the lawnmower was broken.
Summer afternoon - summer afternoon; to me those have
always been the two most beautiful
words in the English language.
A few summers like this and we'll all be behaving like
One can always tell it's summer when one sees teachers
hanging idly about the streets, looking
like cannibals during a shortage of missionaries.